PikeLane Hash House Harriers


           Because Life’s Too Short to Drink Cheap Beer


Used Castle for Sale!  Call the Hareline  (770) 455-6952  ext.114

Badges? We don’t need no stinkin badges!


Your 1999-2000 Mismanijmnt


Grand Master:    Sky Pilot

                Joint Master        Niplets

                  and Mattress:     Pull My String

Hash Cash:          Afterbirth

Hareline:              EZ Cheeks

                              Sleazy Rider

Haberdashery:   Rock Hudson

Bier Meisters:      PV Semen

                              Double Pecker

                              Rat’s Ass

               Master Scribe:    Bite My Gonads



16            #709               Niplets

23            #710               Breaststroke & Butt Nutt

30            #711               Tripod, Ouch & Rat’s Ass present

                              The Quest for the Holy Grail Hash


7             #712               Ashtray & ?

14            #713               Lost Cause

21            #714               Grandma’s Johnson, Cigar Box &

                              EZ Cheeks

28            #715               AH4 1000th


4             #716               Redneck Mutha & Ashtray

11            #717               Kaptain Krash

                              Marine Corps Birthday Hash

18            #718               Yuron Weed

25            #719               ???

Proclamations and Procrastinations from your Mismuddlement


F        WANNA BE A HARE?:  Please call EZ Cheeks (404-659-7273) to sign up to throw some flour.  It’s not that hard, really just pick up the receiver, punch in the corresponding numbers on the keypad, and speak in a clear, loud voice into the mouthpiece.  Of course, you may want to wait until someone or something actually answers the phone first.

F       HASH TRASH:  Hemingway, Thoreau, Afterbirth, Dickens, Emerson, Bite My Gonads all literary greats.  You too can be revered, just by writing the trash.  Contact Bite My Gonads at the hash or annoy him at home (404-964-8964) and he’ll gladly lend you his crayons.








Run # 707 September 2, 2000

Hares: Bitch w/an Attitude & Dribbles

Venue: Gwinnett Walk Shopping Ctr. Holcomb Bridge Road


It began as all other hashes began the vapid look of confusion, the quick finger-pointing of blame, dogs humping strangers’ legs, staple guns not being used for their intended purpose.


If only the rest of my life could be this predictable.


Our hares du jour promised a wild and wooly time, and we had no reason to doubt them.  Okay, we had every reason to doubt them they’re hares, they lie.


“I’m a good little doggy!” proclaimed Dribbles as he and Bitch took off with their precious 5-minute head start and 43.7 lbs of flour.  Meanwhile, the pack enjoyed tea and crumpets, while Uh Huh Baby provided rousing renditions of various show tunes.  If only the rest of my life could be this predictable.


With the traditional utterance of “What in the Wide Wide World of Sports is going on out here,” Niplets declared the 2000 Olympic Games open, and we were off.  Cheetah took the lead by sprinting down the middle of Holcomb Bridge Road, much to the delight of the many drivers who knew that a moving target was worth bonus points.


As for the trail itself well, who can remember.  It was 2 weeks ago, and the full frontal lobotomy has diminished my memory a bit.  I know there were woods and squirrels and trails and wombats and creek crossings and rabbits with sharp pointy teeth (no wait, that’s in 2 weeks).


True trail crossed over Peachtree Corners Circle, where, rumor has it, boxers were sighted running (gasp!) roads.  Don’t you just love gated apartment communities that leave their gates wide open?  Well, hashers do, and we did, much to the chagrin of the many onlookers who wondered, out loud no less, "Muffy, who let those hooligans out in the croquet area?”


The snares got hared, shouted “220, 221 whatever it takes!” and got another 5 minute lead.  Personally I think they planned it, those crafty bastards, to bring the pack back together.


More woods, shiggy, creeks, briars, and lovely trails that hadn't seen PineLakers in forever (and a day).  Say it ain’t so, GI Joe, the powerline trails over by the wastewater treatment plant off Winters Chapel Road? Ahhhh, Norfucker would be proud.


And go figure that we spy the On-In behind the shopping center which houses that legend known as Scorpio’s.  For the life of me, I don’t know why we didn’t have the On-On there.


Down-downs proceeded after much gnashing of teeth because the hares only had one bimbo and two cars.  So in their infinite wisdom, and I praise them highly for this, the beer made it to the end, but not the bags.  One trip and several beers later, the bags arrive just about the time the rest of the pack filtered in.


The offenses were many, and the beer did flow, but once again, my little yellow sheet does not list all who drank.  So I’ll wing it:  Numbnuts, Furry Balls, and Black Hole of Goa visited us from far away places;  David Goff was our virgin du jour; Cums First and Too Dumb to Die were too-long-between-hashes;  Hide the Salami and Niplets drank ‘cause they came without Size Doesn’t Matter;  Dipstick graced us with his presence from AH4;  Shiggy Pitts stepped another year closer to his grave;  and the hares!


Scribe:              Rat’s Ass


Blatant Self-Promotion of an Upcoming Hash


The Quest for the Holy Grail

Saturday, September 30, 2000


Presented by

Sir Tripod, Lady Ouch

  & their humble servant,

  Patsy, um, er, Rat’s Ass